


A Real Woman

by alltoseek



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e08 Hard Sell, F/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/pseuds/alltoseek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate's thoughts during her brief conversation with Peter Burke. She becomes a bit angry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Peter: “Did you ever love him?”</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Here's the question you should ask: Did Neal ever love me? He loves the ideal he created before he ever spoke one word to me. He loves some raw Galatea he's trying to mold into a female version of himself. He wants the romantic vision he'd created of this perfect romantic life we're going to lead with a house and two kids and a dog, all while somehow also being the ultimate jet-setting glamorous Mr and Mrs Thomas Crown of the art world.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Neal's clutching at fairy tales. When he stops playing Pinocchio and Peter Pan, when he becomes a real boy and decides to grow up, then maybe I'll find out if Neal is interested in a real woman named Kate Moreau. And then maybe I can find out if I love Neal Caffrey. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Real Woman

_Peter: “Hello, Kate.”_

Oh, first name basis, is it? Fine.

_Kate: “Hello, Peter.”_

_Peter: “We need to talk about Neal.”_

Of course. What else interest could you possibly have in me except to get to Neal? No one else gives a fuck about Kate Moreau, why would you?

_Kate: “It's been a while.”_

_Peter: “Five years. First time I caught Neal.”_

Yeah, that's right. When you used me as bait. When I was trying my damnedest to stay away from him, and you led him right to my door. 

_Kate: “What do you want?”_

Now. This time. You already have Neal;  _you_ don't need me as bait any more.

_Peter: “Leave Neal alone.”_

Ha! Now you tell me to. It's your own fault we are even in this position; does that ever occur to you? If only I could leave him alone – I tried, you know. I tried for months before you led him right to me, and I tried again seven months ago when I stopped visiting him at prison. 

_Kate: “I can't do that.”_

_Peter: “Why not?”_

Because goddamn fucking Feds keep sticking their noses into Neal's business, and they use me to get what they want from him. Does that sound like a familiar story, Agent Burke?

_Peter: “What does Neal have that you so desperately want? I can get it for you.”_

Is that right. Be the first a Fed ever did anything to help me or Neal. I used to think Mozzie was excessively paranoid, but I've become cynical enough to know that he's merely a realist. I couldn't trust Adler; I couldn't trust Neal; I can't trust Fowler. Why on earth should I trust you?

_Kate: “Why would you do that?”_

_Peter: “Why? Because he's good. Because he's the smartest guy I've ever met and I'm tired of watching you twist his heart around.”_

Oh, is _that_ what I'm doing? What _I'm_ doing? Because I left him – twice – and Neal keeps chasing me; but _I'm_ the one twisting his heart. I loved him enough to visit him in prison, where none of his other friends would. I'd run from him for months before prison, and since I stopped visiting I've left him alone – until _he_ came to me, but somehow that all translates to 'twisting his heart'. I really, really don't know how that works.

Yes, I left a trail of bread crumbs, all the while hoping they'd be scooped up before Neal could find them; or that he'd lose track of them in the midst of much shinier objects. Leaving the clues was the only way I could show Fowler that I was 'cooperating'. And if Neal overlooked them or ignored them, then maybe Fowler and his cohorts would ignore me. Or maybe they would simply dispose of me; but in any case, it would be Neal's choice to keep looking or not. I did what I could to warn him, to protect him and myself.

_Peter: “He's my friend. Let him go.”_

'Let him go'?! Me?! Hell, I've tried! Neal could have let _me_ go anytime – after the first time I left, and then never fallen into your trap. He could have let me go when I told him goodbye in prison – he could have finished his sentence and been a free man. I never told him to escape or encouraged him to. I left a subtle clue during the visit; he could have missed it, ignored it. In any case, it didn't say, 'Hey, escape from prison! Keep chasing after me!' Even following the code I made, he could have overlooked the hidden clue on the bottle – the obvious message was its emptiness: no promises, no future, nothing. If he'd stopped at any time, I would have left him completely alone. It's all been Neal; Neal's choices, every time.

But I know why you are telling me this now – you've tried telling Neal to let me go, and you found out how well that works. Yeah, I know. Been there, done that, twice now. It doesn't work with Neal, does it? But it sure as hell worked _for_ you, when you used his obsession with me to trap him. But now that his obsession is inconvenient, you want _me_ to 'let him go'. And just how the hell do I do that, Peter? You screwed that up the first time, and now Fowler's screwing it up this time. It won't ever matter what I do: Neal doesn't let go.

_Peter: “Did you ever love him?”_

I have to use every trick I ever learned from Neal just to keep from gaping at you incredulously. I cannot believe you even have the nerve to ask me that. You've known me for all of five minutes, maybe, and that gives you the right to ask about my most intimate feelings? What the hell do you even care? Here, how about I ask you – 'Hey Peter, do you love Neal? What do you mean, that's a ridiculous question? And none of my business?' It makes as much sense as you interrogating me. Fuck you, fucking conceited men, think you are the center of the fucking universe.

Here's the question you should ask: Did Neal ever love _me_? He loves some ideal he created before he ever spoke one word to me. Neal loves being the pure romantic hero, like the Highwayman in the poem. He doesn't love me – the real Kate Moreau. He loves some raw Galatea he's trying to mold into a female version of himself, the narcissist he is. He never trusted me because he knew he didn't know me, the real me – he didn't want to; he wants the romantic vision he'd created. This vision of me, of himself, of this perfect romantic life we're going to lead with a house and two kids and a dog, all while somehow also being the ultimate jet-setting glamorous Mr and Mrs Thomas Crown of the art world.

He's trying to cram us into a fairytale. I'm not Cinderella or Snow White. I'm a real woman living in the real world. Neal's still clutching at fairy tales. When he stops playing Pinocchio and Peter Pan, when he becomes a real boy and decides to grow up, then maybe I'll find out if Neal is interested in a real woman named Kate Moreau. And _then_ maybe I can find out if I love Neal Caffrey.

In the meantime, here's a clue for you: Do you know what it's like to visit an inmate in a supermax prison? Do you know what it takes to keep doing so every single week, month after month, year after year? I learned, and I did it. Maybe that will tell you something about my feelings for Neal.

_Peter: “Tell Fowler I know. And I'm not backing off.”_

_Kate: “Peter! Don't push him.”_

I've found out the hard way to what lengths he's willing to go, how much power he can wield over this. If I don't keep playing along, I'm dead, or good as. He's killed before; he'll do it again if he has to. He won't let you or me or Neal stand in his way.

I hope what you're telling me is true – I hope you are on Neal's side, and trying to protect him. Because no one is on my side; no one is trying to protect me. It's all I can do to keep myself alive and whole; while trying to – I'm _trying_ – to leave Neal alone, to warn him off, to let him walk away. I can't _make_ Neal walk away, or let go, any more than you can, Peter. If you are really his friend you should know him well enough to understand that.

I wish you luck, Peter Burke. I hope you can get the music box, get Neal out of this mess. It's more than I can do, for myself or Neal. But if you can, I promise I will do my best to vanish; and if you Feds can leave me the fuck alone, maybe I can even succeed.

 


End file.
